REWIND Sequel to Click Baby Click
by G.E Waldo
Summary: Summary: Chac the photographer wants House and not just on film . Wilson is in a mid-life crises...you do the math. Rating: M. Adult. NC-17 Slash, language. Pairing: House/Chac & H/Wilson.
1. Chapter 1

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TV Shows » House, M.D. » **REWIND Sequel to Click Baby Click**

Author: G.E Waldo

Rated: M - English - Romance/Drama - Reviews: 82 - Published: 07-01-08 - Updated: 08-07-08

id:4364510

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Rewind

(Sequel to Click Baby Click)

Part If

By GeeLady

Summary: Chac the photographer wants House (and not just on film). Wilson is in a mid-life crises..._**you**_do the math.

Rating: M. Adult. NC-17 Slash, language.

Pairing: House/Chac & H/Wilson.

Disclaimer: I manipulate the sexy House and others to my hearts content. No fee's, no earnings,...just fun!

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He booked a cab. Easiest way to get there. Not the cheapest.

House decided that he wanted a long weekend spent somewhere other than his apartment with the television. Wilson was busy with girlfriend number three - or was Amber number four since divorce number three? - and Amber was undoubtedly soon to be wife number four, and so Wilson had little time for beer and pretzels with him. House was tired of asking Wilson out (he hadn't intended to think about it _that _way), and he was sure Wilson was tired of inventing reasons to say sorry, no can do.

Amber, for all her cut-throat bitch ways, seemed to be making Wilson happy and House decided to leave it be. Cut-throat being a proxy of himself meant he was already dating Wilson in a metaphorical sense - better not push it.

But there were other people who were happy to spend time with him and one of them lived in New York. House hated going to New York but if it meant a nice weekend spent under the sheets with a hot young thing, he could tolerate the damn place for a few days.

His plane landed on time and, with the business address on the small plastic coated card, he taxi-ed it to the nice middle business class address. Fifty-seven dollars later, the cabbie pulled up beside a pleasant looking old fashioned brick building on a wide street crowded with old trees. The narrow, fenced lawn gave way to a small cobblestone path that ended at a smoked glass door with a very modern intercom. One where you had to push designated numbered buttons and the desired office was contacted via telephone.

After four or five rings, a quick, impatient man's voice answered. House didn't recognize it. "Yes?"

House almost didn't speak. What if the guy was the boyfriend? What if the annoyed voice was his sometimes model-partner? What if House was intruding on the guys' private party? What if the voice that just spoke _is_ that private party? Houses' left foot turned as though to leave, but his tongue had other ideas. "Uh, is Chac there?"

"Come on up."

House heard the click that signaled the call had ended. The door buzzer sounded and House hurried to grab the handle before it stopped. He checked the office number on the card - it was the only address Chac had given him - and was relieved to see an elevator though it was only a four story building. His leg could just manage two stories. Three or more was beyond him.

Two uncertain knocks brought someone to the door. Not Chac. Someone House had never seen before. Not Sai, Chacs' set designer. Not a woman, so not Michele, his make-up artist.

A young blonde looker wearing nothing but a pair of very tight, low rider, black jeans. He was fit and smooth chested and gave House a curious once over.

"Chac!" The blonde bombshell called over his shoulder while his eyes never left Houses cane. "I think your dad is here."

Chac walked over saying. "My dad lives in Buenos Aries and he can't stand me." Chac halted when he saw who it was. His mouth hung open for a minute but then he smiled, a very private smile just between him and House. "I'm surprised you're here. But _pleased."_

House looked back down the hall and then back at the young blonde standing very close to Chac. "If I came at a bad time . . ."

Chac reached out and grabbed Houses' coat sleeve. "Never. Come on in."

Blonde kid went back to his place on the table and fell into his pose again.

House figured the kid was a model but, seeing the way the blonde was eyeing up Chac, couldn't help but wonder if he was more than that.

"Take a break, Tyler. And drop the playgirl pose, what do think this is - a boudoir? It's lunch time. Go eat a few a cheeseburgers. God knows you need a few pounds." Chac instructed while leading House to another room. A desk, green plants, pictures on the wall and a soft leather couch said home base. This was Chacs' regular hub of business.

"Sorry about Tyler." Chac said for the young man's social gaff at the door. "He's a nice kid but an idiot. It's a commissioned photo spread. He's "spreading" for his new boyfriend. Gauche leather and denim shoot. It's a favor. Normally I wouldn't put my name on anything so tacky."

House sat, easing his weight off his leg. "No problem. People often mistake me for an old grouch."

"Well, as I said, an idiot. My dad is Italian. If you tanned for a year at three mile island and ate pasta morning, noon and night, you still could never pass for him." Chac sat in his own wood swivel chair and smiled across his desk at his special visitor. "I finish shooting at four. Dinner?"

House was glad Chac suggested it. Chac was intelligent. He was attractive and even more important -Chac was not boring. The photographer obviously favored his company. All of these were reasons why House decided to come to New York even though he previously said he wouldn't. Plus he had been feeling the loneliness more than usual since Wilson had hooked up with girlfriend what-ever-number Amber was. "Sure."

XXX

Chac enjoyed dinner but he was loving dessert more. The sexy doctor was naked under him in his large soft bed and Chac was kissing him to the point of swallowing his tongue. He moved to the older mans neck and chest and nipped and licked his way south, his cock harder and harder with every passing minute. "Oh, fuck, I want you so _bad." _He growled.

Chac could see how hard House was too and his need to be touched and stroked. But Chac pushed off House until he was sitting on his knees. He gently cupped Houses' balls and massaged just a little. Then he left his fingers travel south and just touched the hole. "I want you here." He watched Houses' reaction. There was some uncertainty there. "I swear it won't hurt at all. I'll take my time going in. We'll use a condom. If you've never experienced it - oh babe' - you have to know what it feels like to appreciate it."

Chac leaned forward and kissed House on the mouth over and over, sensually tasting him. "Trust me."

House nodded, though not liking the "oh babe" part and, even in the darkened room, Chac noticed the scowl. "Sorry. When I'm really into someone - and I am _really_ into you (_in more ways than one in the next few minutes) _- it's just what I call him. I like calling my boyfriends babe."

"I'm not your boyfriend."

"Whatever you say." Chac lifted himself off House for a minute. "It's easier for you the first time if you lie on your stomach."

House did as he was told and Chac spent a moment or two cupping Houses' ass cheeks with appreciative hands. He leaned over and kissed his right one, then patted it. "Mmmmm, you've got such a fine man ass." Chac could feel himself quickly harden again and slipped a condom over his erect penis. He applied a generous amount of lube on the himself and then his intended target, making House jump.

"Sorry. It's a bit cold."

House didn't let on it wasn't the chilled KY that had startled him. No one, other than a doctor, had ever touched him there before - not with the intent he knew was in Chac's mind. House had learned from some patients who came to the clinic for tear and soreness treatment that anal sex hurt some and didn't others. He had no idea which he was. Thankfully Chac was hung relatively average so there should be no-

Suddenly Chac's fingers were at his entrance, gently feeling around. He slid one finger inside.

It felt . . .not unpleasant.

Chac lay beside House propped up on his left elbow, leaving his right hand free to play. House felt one, then two, then three fingers. Each time Chac was very gentle and very slow. Even his nails, House was glad to discover, were filed short and smooth so there was no chance of them accidently pinching or scraping.

Chac was doing his best to make it pleasurable, not painful and House was beginning to enjoy it.

Then Chac was suddenly on him again, lying full length and House could feel something up against his hole. It wasn't a finger. Chac leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Ready?" and kissed the side of Houses' face that was turned to him.

House nodded and felt Chac slowly pushing at his entrance. Once, and again and then again. And finally, . . .he felt Chac's hard cock push all the way in. A soft moaning _Ooooooo_ sound could be heard and House wasn't sure which of them had made it.

Chac very slowly withdrew and pushed in again. House felt an almost instinctive need to raise his ass and push back against him. It just felt natural to do that.

It also felt wonderful.

Chac whispered while kissing him and sliding in an out. "I want to fuck you harder."

House nodded, curious. Always curious.

Chac let loose a bit and began driving into him, moaning and gasping, his breath coming in hard, fast billows. "Oh, fuck!"

House could feel Chac's cock striking against his prostate, making him arch his back. That seemed instinctive too, a natural, hot, driving reaction to being fucked in the ass. It was weird and sharp and incredibly hot. It was a high. It was sexually all new and he couldn't help but love it.

"That's amazing." He ground out between Chac's thrusts which were becoming harder and faster. But not once did it hurt.

"Oh, babe', I want to fucking nail you to the bed." Chac growled in his ear. "I want fuck you harder. I want to screw you until I'm insane."

House wasn't sure how the man would manage that as his whole body was already being moved violently on the bed. But somehow his lover drilled an even deeper and driving pump, pistoning madly, crying out with each thrust. "You're! So! _Fucking! _Hot!"

Chac came with an Ahhh through gritted teeth, but still he drove his cock into House over and over until his cock softened, forcing him to stop. He lay on House, slumped with sweat. Spent. Kissing Houses' back and the top of his head, "I love your body. Goddamn, babe', you make me horny."

XXX

"House took some vacation time."

"Did he say where he was going?" Wilson stood stiffly before Cuddy's desk, his hands clenched with the disbelief that House would actually take a vacation. Or take a vacation without telling him. Or inviting him along.

"I'm assuming he went home."

Wilson didn't think House would be going to see his parents for any reason. and if there was a necessary reason for House to go and visit his parents, House would make up any reason possible to avoid going. "To his apartment?"

Cuddy sighed. "Use the phone. Find out."

When Wilson reached for her desk phone, she slapped his hand away. "A _different _phone."

Wilson left her office and dialed Houses' apartment on his cellular. It rang three times before Houses' answering machine picked up: "_I __**am**__ here but I'm ignoring you. If you have reached this number in error, you're an idiot. Prove me wrong by __**not **__leaving a message."_

"House." Wilson spoke into his cell' while slipping into his over-coat. "Pick up." Wilson gave it a few seconds before he hung up.

Amber was expecting him home. Friday night dinner. Their special time together. Movie mixed with cuddling, spiced up by kissing, followed by some average, missionary American sex. It was their routine.

It would have to wait.

Wilson drove to Houses' apartment and found it dark. He used his key and checked all the rooms to make sure. Speculating where on Gods' blue earth House would have found to go vacationing in, Wilson even examined Houses' bedroom closet and found a few things missing that were usually there. Wilson, not for the first time, thought how odd it was that one guy, even a best friend, would know that about another guys' closet, even if he was the best friends's best friend.

Did other guys know what was in each others' closets?

On the chest of drawers next to the closet lay **THE CALENDAR**_. _Cuddys' project. The thing she had asked him and a few other doctors to participate in and had _bribed_ House to.

Wilson had never actually looked at the finished product. House had made her swear not to peddle the thing down at the hospital and she had reluctantly agreed. The cover was a beautiful picture of Plainsboroughs' main entrance doors and surrounding brickwork, framed by trees and greenery with that framed by head-shots around the borders of the doctors that could be seen inside in far more flattering circumstances (and with much less clothing).

Wilson carried it to the living room, turning on a few lights as he went. He opened it to January and was startled to see Doctor Kassab nude from the waist up reclining back in a wicker chair with his Golden Retriever asleep with its soft head on Kassabs' well toned abdomen. Kassab also appeared asleep. Wilson shook his head. Incredible how sexy and candid a picture the photographer had managed to create from such a common domestic scene. In the bottom right corner of the photo was a smaller picture super-imposed displaying Kassab in his physician attire, assisting a patient in Intensive Care.

Next was February. Yates, the hospitals' Obstetrician. A good looking older man with salt and pepper hair who obviously worked out. His was a very seductive photo of himself holding his newborn baby in a shared but shallow bath. Wilson recalled the birth-announcement e-mail that had arrived on his desktop a few weeks previous. He had sent back a standard greeting of congradulations. In the photo, soap bubbles covered the more private areas between Doctor Yates fit stomach and hips. The baby and Yates were both laughing.

In each photograph, as in this one, there was an accompanying second, smaller photo of that months physician performing some doctor-related task at Plainsborough.

Wilson flipped through the next few months and saw Foreman - March. (Well muscled. The man clearly worked out every day). April was Chase. (Young and innocently sexy looking). One other physician was the May doctor whom Wilson knew about professionally and by name but little else.

Wilson then turned to find himself on the page looking back. He, James Wilson, was Doctor June. The photographer - what was his name? Jake? Chad? Jed? - had produced an almost embarrassingly seductive photo of himself leaning against a chain mesh fence. The black shirt they had dressed him in was undone passed his navel with his jeans top button undone as well, showing just the slightest hint of private hairline. The dark hair on his head was being teased by the wind and he was almost but not quite smiling.

He wasn't sure how the guy had maneuvered him into that revealing pose and he couldn't recall everything they had discussed. But he did remember the fellow asking him if he was in love with anyone. Or - no. The photographer had wanted to know if he and _House_ were involved.

Wilson wondered how he could have forgotten that. Suddenly Wilson remembered the answer he had given him. _No_. He had distinctly said _No, we're not involved. Why would you think so?_

And he recalled, he thought, the expression on the man's face at his answer. Pleasure. Or satisfaction? More like _relief._

The next months, July and August, were Houses' months. Wilson wondered why House kept the Calendar at all considering his vehemence at Cuddy even allowing the thing into the hospital.

But they all knew House had been the feature and Wilson had seen Cameron studying the calendar on her lunch break. Despite Cuddys' ban on the calendar being kept at the hospital, Cameron had seen fit to pour over it every chance she got. He felt a little uncomfortable with the idea that other doctors and nurses might be doing the same with _his _picture.

He flipped the page over to July and saw House with his motorcycle. A beautiful picture. House looked . . .sad. Isolated. Alone. Sexy. Wilson smiled at himself. Next thing he _would_ be dating House. Yeah, right.

But House had been the feature and that meant at least five or six more pictures of him than anyone else. Naturally Cameron would want to see House in situations away from the usual. She had always been a bit obsessed with her former boss.

The next picture was House at work performing his particular craft of Diagnostics. It was House sitting in his chair, forehead leaning on his cane, deep in thought.

Wilson had seen House like that hundreds of times. But never like this. Never so it's the _man_ you saw, and not the doctor. The doctor was trying to find a disease; a hidden secret; a threatening illness; a creature invisible.

House, the man was pouring every shred of his flagging energy into this one task. He was foregoing sleep, food. He was enduring pain, loneliness and the doubts of skeptics. He was doing what hardly anyone else did - pouring out his soul so another human could keep theirs. And, for the most part, it was _he_ who was invisible. Avoided by others. Disdained by fellow professionals. Outright hated by some. The unforgiving and exacting world House would then shrug off like a dirty shirt. House, utilized by the unfeeling. Sought out but under-appreciated. He was the coveted unseen genius.

Until this moment.

Wilson found he was holding his breath along with the figure in the photo. He let it out and turned the page. The last photo of July House before August House.

This one showed House at play, sitting in a chair, twirling his cane like he had done a thousand times. Not smiling. Not laughing. Concentrating. Do it well. Get it right. It seemed play, for House, was sometimes as serious as work. That was a new thought for Wilson. He had always considered Houses' leisure time activities to be rather crude and childish.

But, Wilson corrected himself, this was not really House at play. This was House distracting himself from something. Easing the boredom or occupying his mind while the idiots or the ignorant said what they needed to say then passed on by. It was sweet and sad at the same time.

August House . . .

Wilson could hardly drag his eyes away from August House. He was _caught_ and held still by the face looking up at him from an operating table. What depth - what soul - in the photo. What life with all its tragedy and triumph in the eyes staring into his. Wilson had no idea what had prompted House to make that expression but if the picture could talk he was certain it would be the eyes that would speak. They were fierce and strong and all at once needy to a frightening degree. They were hollow but filled with want. Thwarted by the world and a conquer-er of it.

And so achingly vulnerable, and thus so beautiful, they made Wilsons' heart hurt.

It was as though the infarction time had returned. Rushed back in and swallowed their lives up all over again. Chewed on Houses' sanity and fears - and his determination to keep his leg. The photo brought the memory of Stacy's decision to take a third of it away with her. And Houses' terrible pain when she made that walk.

The terrible knowledge of betrayal that had eaten his friend up. Consumed him from center to surface. The awful knowledge he would be crippled for life. And the vulnerable part - how he had no idea as yet of the pain he would go through in that life to be.

The photo showed all these things, somehow, by simply revealing a look in the blue eyes of a man who habitually hides his soul from everyone.

Everyone except the photographer.

Wilson was startled to find he was feeling a pang of jealousy.

The next photograph was a work of art. And the thing so shocking about it was House was the art piece. His naked body was draped on a table, languid and sleepy like a cat. Soft pink tinged light from behind just falling across enough skin that you wanted to see more. Soft body hair shining from the glow, making you want to feel it from navel to chest with your fingers. Long muscled thigh - the kind all men wished they'd been born with - on a perfect leg bent at the knee. Muscled arms stretched back over the head, throat exposed and arched and open - and ready - for anyones' lips to discover.

Wilson could not tear his eyes away from his friend. His best friend. His best friends' very sexy, very naked body.

The last picture almost had Wilsons' heart breaking and his soul itching to cure whatever ailed this man sitting in the chair, curled around himself. His cane his support. His scar as so natural a part of him now as to be a thing of birth or design. And those goddamn blue eyes that shot their burning power and their beseeching payer to his soul. Asking . . .asking . . .

Wanting help. Wanting something . . .someone, but never asking. Never admitting. So sad and sexy and craving . . _.him. _Yes, Wilson felt that Houses' eyes were looking straight at him.

He shook his head. But all photo's like this are supposed to make you feel like that. Right? Like it was _you_ the two dimensional person was staring at.

But Wilson realised there was something else the photos of naked House and his beautiful eyes had made him feel. Shifting in his seat on Houses' leather couch, it was a sensation, and a situation, impossible to ignore.

His cock was as hard as iron.

XXX

Part II ASAP.

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	2. Chapter 2

Rewind

--

(Sequel to Click Baby Click)

Part II

By GeeLady

Summary: Chac the photographer wants House (and not just on film). Wilson is in a mid-life crises..._**you**_do the math.

Rating: M. Adult. NC-17 Slash, language.

Pairing: House/Chac & H/Wilson.

Disclaimer: I manipulate the sexy House and others to my hearts content. No fee's, no earnings,...just fun!

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Wilson locked Houses' apartment door and climbed in behind the wheel of his very doctor-ish BMW.

It made no sense.

Houses' taking off to somewhere without telling him, without inviting him, made no sense.

Naked pictures of House made less sense.

Him liking those pictures made even less sense.

And him not just liking them. _Loving_ them.

Pictures of his nude male friend House - his sexy friend House - made him uncomfortable in his pants and that was the most senseless thing that had happened all year.

And the most surprising.

Wilsons' steady little world of what made sense went topsy turvy beneath his size twelves.

House shouldn't look sexy.

He shouldn't like _looking _at sexy House.

Wilsons' slowly softening but still twitching penis had its own ideas.

"What the fuck?"

XXX

"What was the name of that photographer you used back in February - the calendar guy?"

Cuddy told Wilson the address over the phone and he jotted it down.

House didn't know anyone in New York but this guy and Wilson was positive House wouldn't be going - flying - to New York to see_ him_.

Almost positive. Ever since he himself had taken up with Amber, he was not so certain as to the personal specifics of House as he used to be.

_Oh my god. You're sleeping with __**me**__._

Houses' words which Wilson had briefly looked at and dismissed. Possible? Nah. Just because she likes to control everything or, failing that, manipulate people and circumstances to her hearts' content; just because she does exactly what she pleases regardless of the consequences; just because, in heels anyway, she was taller than he was by an inch; just because she had beautiful eyes and was as sharp as and quick witted as-

- He shook his head. Amber had al the right parts. House - all the wrong ones.

Wilson denied it all the way to the airport.

XXX

The door was answered by House himself who stared at him. Of all the people I expected to see, his expression seemed to say, it sure as hell wasn't _you! _

But his face immediately altered to match his words. "What are you doing here?"

Wilson tried to see into the studio where Chac did his business_. Photography_ business.

Wilson narrowed his eyes. "That was my question. Are you . . .is he . . .are you two . . .is this . . .new friend?"

"This," House said with his backpack over one shoulder and cane gripped fiercely in his other, "is me going to the airport. Chac," he thrust a thumb at the tall, olive skinned man behind him, "and I had dinner. Now you," House jerked the same thumb at Wilsons' chest, "are leaving."

Chac walked up behind House and Wilson had the impression that had he not been standing there, Chac would have wrapped his arms around House and planted a big wet one on him. But all Chac said was, "See you next month." making no move toward House.

House pushed passed Wilson and limped to the elevator, jabbing at the Down button savagely.

Wilson felt like a fool, threw Chac a face of apology and followed House.

Chac smiled after him before closing his door. "Be gentle."

Wilson followed House into the elevator. Looked at his shoes. Stole a glance at House who was pointedly ignoring him.

Then, "Amber at home?" House casually asked.

Wilson nodded.

House did too. "She thinks you're working." Not a question.

Wilson didn't answer.

"You're sabotaging another relationship. You're a love affair serial killer."

"Amber knows you and I are best friends."

"Right. An educated, intelligent woman would be completely okay with her boyfriend lying about working so he can fly to New York without a moments notice or," House shrugged, mocking Wilsons' duplicity, "even telling her." House looked at him now. "Trust me, no matter how good Amber is for you and likes your after-shave, she won't understand that amount of lying."

Wilson skipped over everything to arrive at, "You think Amber's good for me?"

"Sure."

He thought he understood. "Ah, right. Because she's the female version of you, says an ego an Airplane Hangar couldn't contain."

"No, I think she's good for you because she's good for you. The pattern is broken." House laughed a bit at the irony. "Well, _was_ broken. Now _that's_ broken."

"I'm not cheating on Amber."

"No but you are lying to her and if you're already lying to her and you only met," House glanced at his watch, "what time was that again? - can cheating be far behind?"

"House. Amber and I are okay. I'm not seeing anyone."

"Except me." House leaned over and raised his voice so Wilson would be sure to clearly hear it. "In _New York_."

Wilson stared for a few seconds. "I am not - " He consciously took a step away from House who did not fail to note it. "You and I are not having some sort of weird friendship affair. You think that's why I'm here?"

"I don't know why you're here but I know _you_ don't know why you're here."

-

-

They took separate flights home.

XXX

"What the hell was that all about?" Was Houses' first question to Wilson the next morning, a question House didn't bother keeping the volume down on.

Wilson was sure it had filtered into the next room where Chase, Taub, Hadley and Kutner, their heads stuck in books or concentrating on cooling coffee mugs, pretended to be terribly busy. Foreman watched and listened to the whole exchange with unfiltered interest.

Wilson cringed and closed the door. He turned to House but found himself one explanation short, finally settling on, "I was worried about you."

House kept his eyes on his computer screen. Electronic cars raced through a darkened city, smashing into walls, telephone polls and people. "You're lying."

"I am not." Wilsons' voice squeaked on the last word. But for rare occasions, House could always tell when he was doing that and he hated him for it. Particularly since his curiosity over House and the photographer had swelled to gargantuan proportions he couldn't ignore. "You hated doing that calendar. You hated the photo sessions and you hated the photographer. You complained to me about it every day."

"So?"

"So?? So why was it suddenly so important for you to go to New York - a town you hate - to see a guy you hate?"

"It was a business call. He's doing my portfolio. I'm applying to model at GQ."

"Right. Because suddenly being the only diagnostician in the country offers no challenge. You hate getting your picture taken."

House turned off the computer screen, grabbed his cane and limped as fast as he could into the hallway. Wilson easily followed. "Which means," He continued. "_you're_ lying. Which means you went there a different reason. Which reason you refuse to tell me." Wilson raised a finger of Eureka in Houses' face. "In fact, you're trying to hide the real reason from me." He stopped Houses' aimless walk with a hand on his arm. "You're ashamed about the reason."

House stepped into the elevator but he couldn't shake off the younger man. "This sounds like a secret rendezvous reason and since it's you it's something bad or at least illegal." Wilson snapped his fingers. "I got it! You're investing in the porn industry."

"Only as a consumer."

A few people joined them on the next level down.

"It's got to be that or-"

House chanced a sideways glance and Wilson caught it.

"Or . . ." He studied Houses' inscrutable expression.

"What?"

Wilson stared and when the doors opened again he made a rapid exit. "Nothing. Gotta go."

"Good!" House called after him. "Stay gone." With satisfaction he saw Wilsons back hunch up as he said loudly for the crowded hallway. "You keep stalking me and people will think we're in love."

XXX

The clinic was crowded with patients and scarce with doctors. "great." House muttered.

Cuddy appeared out nowhere, hooking her arm through his. "You finally decided to show up for your hours."

"I was busy."

"Internet crowded today?"

"No. They're all _here."_

"Smile." She said and pushed him toward the first exam room door.

-

-

"Good morning. I'm Doctor House."

A chubby woman was perched on the exam table, her hands held gingerly in her lap. She smiled pleasantly. "Hello."

House noted the red, raw appearance of her fingers. "Your hands look like they've spent too much time in the sun."

"They hurt - sting."

House made a visual inspection. "Mazal-tov."

The brunette smiled. "Thanks."

"You had gestational diabetes?"

"That's amazing. Yes, I did."

"Girl?"

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Female babies are more prone to diaper rash. Stay at home or nanny?"

"Stay at home."

"You have diaper hands." He wrote out a prescription. "Use this after she goes Number 1. In the meantime wear gloves."

House handed her the paper and stood to leave.

"Wait a second." The woman asked. "How did you know I had gestational diabetes?"

"Easy. You're overweight but not just from the pregnancy and gestational babies drink more, so more pee. More pee, more diaper rash. More diaper rash and Mommy has to make a trip to the clinic."

House exited exam room One and picked up the file for exam room Two, finding two people inside waiting for him.

An older man sat, swinging his legs back and forth, clearly enjoying himself. A remarkably thin woman in her late twenties stood nearby, waiting patiently.

"Morning."

"Hello Doctor." The man said, all friendly smile. His companion nodded politely.

House sat on the stool he pushed over with his cane, noting the mans' physical characteristics and overt friendliness. "What's the matter with you today?"

The woman answered. "Martin's feet are bothering him."

House glanced over at her. "Do your feet hurt?"

She frowned. No."

"Can Martin talk?"

"Yes."

"Let him." Ignoring the womans' frown, House turned back to his patient. "Which parts hurt?"

Martin pointed. "My big toes. I have blisters."

House slipped on sterile gloves and carefully examined the large blisters Martin carried on the outside of both big toes. "You sure do." House removed the gloves and tossed them to the garbage bin. "Do you dress yourself in the morning?"

Martin said proudly, "Yes!"

"They're not supposed to." The woman offered. "But Martin always beats us to it."

"I can dress myself just _fine." _Martin insisted.

House wrote out a prescription and asked while he scribbled. "You like sports?"

"Wrestling."

"A man after my own heart." House said. "Who do you like?"

"Edge."

House nodded his side to side and was about to say more when Martin started telling House all about his adoration of Edge and the game itself. "Adam Copeland is better known as Edge, the Rated R Superstar! He's been a face and a heel off and on for years in the WWE. His manager Vickie Guerrero. His finishing move, "The Spear", is a vicious running, tackling move which stuns the opponent and pins them down to the mat in seconds flat. Edge has won many matches and titles. He is now the World Heavyweight Champion."

House looked impressed.

"We just got the Internet." The woman, evidently Martins' caretaker, offered.

House said to Martin. "Edge isn't as good as the Undertaker."

Martin said with a happy smile. "Edge kicks Undertakers' sorry ass."

House smiled, enjoying his visit with the wrestling loving Martin.

"I like Star Wars too."

House handed the prescription to the rail-thin Attendant, saying to Martin, "Now that would be a match worth seeing - Darth against the Undertaker. Martin, Do you know what the capital of Ecuador is?"

"Quito."

"And how many people live there?"

"Thirteen million, seven hundred fifty-five, six hundred eighty as of June, 2007."

In his left hand, House held his cane up in front of Martin. "Am I holding my cane in my right hand or my left?"

Martin studied for a few seconds. "Your other hand." He offered.

"Do you put your own shoes on too?"

Martin smiled proudly. "Yes."

House said to the woman. "Autistic savants, like Martin here, can acquire and recall detailed information, often in the exact order they see them, like everything under the letter "E" on an Internet Encyclopedia, but can't do simpler things like know on which foot his shoes go. His shoes are hurting his feet because at least fifty percent of the time he's putting them on the wrong ones and compressing the outside edge of his toes, causing blisters. Let him keep dressing himself, just not the shoes."

"I never even noticed."

House nodded. "I guess sometimes the things right in front of us are the things we don't see."

XXX

When Chac, not House answered Wilsons' knock on Houses' apartment door, his worst suspicions were confirmed.

"Hello, Doctor Wilson." Chac stepped back to allow Wilson to enter. Wilson had also been one of Chac's calendar models and he studied the doctor appreciatively. "Greg went out for more beer. I offered but he said I'd probably get lost "like an idiot" or buy the wrong kind."

_**Greg**_!? Wilson slipped his hands into his pockets nervously. "Yes. House has a unique brand of charm."

Chac walked back to the couch and sat down. Wilson followed but did not sit. He cleared his throat. "Are you doing another calendar?"

Chac cleared his throat too. "No - just Greg."

Wilson stopped breathing for a second.

"Excuse me." Chac retreated to the bathroom to, number one - pee, and, number two - let Doctor Wilson turn his blatantly sexual confession over in his mind. He knew the good looking doctor was having difficulty with Houses' new relationship with a man and he suspected why.

When Chac finished, he returned to the living room and saw Wilson staring down at the calendar that had been left open on Houses' desk. It was turned to one of Houses' best poses - the arms wrapped around the knees one. Chacs' personal favorite.

Wilson did not hear him approach.

"Hot isn't he?" Chac said in Wilsons' ear, making him jump. Wilson quickly averted his eyes and walked back to stand by the couch but Chac was not fooled. The doctors' ears were bright pink.

"You want him, don't you?" Chac ventured, not really expecting an answer so was not surprised when he got none. "Or you don't want _me _having him anyway."

"Why would I want to prevent House from seeing you?"

"Answer with a question. Clever. When you're afraid of the answer, best to not answer at all."

"I have a girlfriend."

"But instead of being with her on a Saturday night, here you are."

"House and I are friends."

"House and I are _lovers."_

Wilson looked away. "I love my girlfriend."

"Then why does it bother you that House has me? Which is a trifle selfish, wouldn't you say?"

"That's ridiculous. It doesn't bother me. I'm involved."

"Interesting answer. Not quite a denial."

"I'm not interested in House."

"Says the man who flew to New York to start an argument."

"I was worried about him."

Chac, his lithe, youthful body verily _gliding_ across the room, moved like a panther protecting its territory. Wilson suddenly felt like an intruder.

The photographers' physique and looks were high end and the man clearly possessed charisma. That combined with the South-American coloring topped with a sharp mind and quick wit made it comprehensible at least why House would be attracted to him.

Chac sat, nodding his silent answer to Wilsons' last lie. He looked up at the fidgeting doctor. "So you don't want Greg?"

"No."

"You're not the least bit interested in him?"

"Of course not."

"Not even curious? Sexually? Never even imagined yourself in bed, on top of him, doing-?"

Wilson blushed to the roots of his hair. "-No!"

Chac sat back on the couch and sipped his luke-warm beer. "Good."

XXX

Part III ASAP


	3. Chapter 3

Rewind

--

(Sequel to Click Baby Click)

Part III

By GeeLady

Summary: Chac the photographer wants House (and not just on film). Wilson is in a mid-life crises..._you _do the math.

Rating: M. Adult. NC-17 Slash, language.

Pairing: House/Chac & H/Wilson.

Disclaimer: I manipulate the sexy House and others to my hearts content. No fee's, no earnings,...just fun!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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Amber kept Wilson busy for the better part of the next two weeks with their own time away at the lake, with his parents' at their vacation cabin and finally when they returned to work, catching up on their mutual case loads. Wilson had surrendered to any and all her requests, much to Ambers' frustration.

"Don't _do_ that!" She complained regarding his over-the-top compliance. But she received no explanation for his behavior or alteration in his quiet, contemplative mood.

"I'm just worried about some cases." Was his oft repeated excuse.

House, he told himself, was not the reason he was unhappy on the job. And certainly not why he was discontent at home. Amber was good for him. House said it himself.

XXX

"Again?" Wilson answered Cuddy, his voice breaking into an uncharacteristic whine.

Cuddy frowned at her employee. "House is taking a few extra days on the weekend. What's the big deal? You're always on his case to get some R and R. Now he is and I for one thank god for it. Maybe he'll _get off_ his teams back a little, _shoot_ some pool, _knock back_ some _foot longs_, or at least _jerk someone else off_ for a while . . ."

Wilson was sure Cuddy was speaking of common recreational activities. There's no way she could know-

" . . .and stop being the _ass of the year_ to every Tom, _Dick_, and Harry in the whole damn hospital."

Simply no way.

"Did he say which day he was coming back?" Chac would be driving House home no doubt, shag him senseless in the hallway, then on the bed, then maybe on the kitchen table just for good measure. Then he'd drop House at work, first kissing him hard in the car while fondling Houses' hard, tight crotch before watching Houses' sweet ass walk away to the hospitals' main entrance. _GoddamnGoddamnGoddamn!_

Cuddy buried her face in her paperwork. "No and I'm busy."

Wilson left her office and wandered to his own, passing by Houses' empty office on the way. Well, not empty. Hadley was in there on Houses' computer. He entered, not revealing to himself the reason. He was lonely. He was bored. He was up Fucked Creek without a prophylactic.

"Hey." He said.

Hadley said "Hey." but didn't look up from the screen.

"Busy?" Wilson thought himself the inane-est nerd going.

"Uh, yeah. What's up?"

Suddenly his lips parted without his direct permission. All on their own it felt like. "How did you know you were bi-sexual?"

Hadleys' mouth closed tight but she didn't look offended. Exactly. "Um, why do you ask?"

"Just curious." She's going to rightly tell you to go soak your idiot head. _Real smooth, Wilson._

She motioned to the visitors chair. Wilson sat, grateful for her geniality and tact in not mentioning that her sex life was none of his friggin' business. "Um. When I was about fifteen I just kind of realised I liked both sexes from a sexual point of view."

"But how did you figure _that_ out? Was it like bricks falling on you or was it a painfully drawn out, horrible, dramatically stressing . . ._water torture_?"

"Let me ask you something - if you were to examine your friendship with House, would it be accurate that you just woke up one day last week or last month and thought - "Hey, he's my best friend! Or did your mind go years back and now you recognize that you honestly felt that way about him almost from the start?"

Wilson pulled his mind under that, placed her astute reasoning over and above his confusion and let it wash in. For years. Yes for years and years, almost from day one, he had become attached to House. He did not know why, not really, but he felt such a strongness inside for him, such a weighty longing - a nameless, indefinable

draw to House . . .There was no doubt that he loved him. How deeply, in what ways he was still unconvinced. Was he in love with his best friend? And was he in denial about that love?

"Did you come to understand that the feeling wasn't a new curiosity, but an old one?"

Hadley didn't expect him to answer, but he looked miserable. "Doctor Wilson, it takes one to spot one."

Wilson looked sharply at her. Did she mean House or him? He was too afraid to ask.

XXX

By Sunday, Wilson was beside himself with the need to have it out with House. He had no idea what "it" was. Or what he would do about "it" if "it" proved to be true. "It" certainly seemed to be happening between House and the photographer and that made Wilson so beside himself he felt like two Wilsons' rolled into one big jumbled up Wilson.

An hours flight seated between two angry newly-weds and he figured he earned the right to question House on the matter.

But arriving at Chacs' office building, it was clearly after closing and too late to question anyone. Wilson hung around the entrance for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do next. Go home and forget about the insanity would probably be the wisest move.

A woman walked up to the entrance carrying a small hand vacuum and a tray of cleaning materials. The rent-a-maid perhaps? Wilson tried to look very business-man. "I've forgotten my key." He said to her and punched call buttons as though trying to reach a partner who was inside but ignoring the phone. "Come on, Harry." He ad-libbed for her benefit, hoping she did not know all the business people by name.

Evidently she didn't and asked innocently. "Having trouble? Here, let me." She unlocked the door with her cleaning ladies key and let him pass inside first. Wilson dare not glance at the office menu for fear of looking like just what he was - an intruder, and walked casually to the elevator. When it came, he passed inside, throwing her his best, charming smile of thanks. She all but simpered.

Wilson got out on the second floor and wandered up and down the halls looking for Chac's office. When his search rendered negative results, he tried the third then the fourth floor. Finally he located the office. It was in darkness.

Of course it was, he scolded himself. It's sunday. No one works on a sunday. Not when they have a House to go nuts on. Wilson speculated that Chac regularly went "nuts" with House.

Wilson stared uselessly at the locked door with emblazoned with the photographers' name.

_Chac Alezandro._

That was it. No title. No list of credits. Wilson supposed the mans' private office would be papered with the photos he had done and the credentials proving he was the best gay photographer in all of gay New York.

Who the hell names their kid _Chac_??

Cleaning lady caught up to him and he jumped with her soft-spoken. "Chac lock you out dear?"

Wilson realized she must think him one of Chacs' "special" friends and started to protest. "Um, no. Wait, I'm not-" But then she unlocked the door and walked away with a knowing smirk on her lips.

Wilson now had free access. Well, maybe they would come back here and then he could talk to House. That was what he told himself as he turned the knob and swung the door open. Turning the lock after himself, Wilson looked around the large outer room. It was almost bare. A table, a chair. Some hutches pushed into two corners. It was the same as when he last saw it.

Wilson wandered into a tiny room to the left and saw a small single bed loosely made. How many times had Chac given it to House right there? Wilson imagined the bed springs squeaking each time Chac raised himself up and then fell back down, driving himself into House with lustful moans and murmurings of pleasure.

Wilson shook his head. He might be losing his mind.

Wilson next explored the tiny office. Here is where Chac did his less glamorous side of the profession. Here is also from where he probably called House and made arrangements for their sexual encounters. The younger man, about ten years his junior, probably talked dirty into the phone and stroked himself as House listened at the other end.

Yup. Definitely losing his mind.

A noise from the main room made him freeze in his tracks and his heart pounded.

A key turning in a lock. The voices of two men. Feet stumbling into the room.

"Why here?" Houses' voice!

"Because this is closer to the bar and I want to fuck you right now." Chacs' slurred, drunken and horny voice.

"Oh." House answered. Wilson heard the lack of seriousness, the tease.

He should step out and surprise them before things went too far. He should explain why the he was in Chacs' office on a Sunday (when it was closed) and why he was in new York - again - and why he was stalking House - again - in the first places.

But instead he stayed very quiet and listened to two men begin to make love. His best friend and his best friends' new, younger, attractive lover who made no bones that he wanted to bone House as many times as possible, in as many positions as possible and everywhere on the planet if he lived long enough, began kissing. Wilson could hear the soft sound of lips on lips and tiny breaths exchanged one mouth to the other. He heard the rustling of clothing being shed carelessly to the floor and Chacs' softly possessive laugh as he said "No, no . . right here." And the sound of House being taken to the hard wood floor.

Wilson thought he should close his ears to what was coming next but Chac began talking. In between some very heavy kissing, he spoke, Wilson imagined, into Houses' blushing ears.

"I want you to come with me to Sorrento."

Wilson swallowed hard. _With him where?_

"This is my big chance. Tuttouomini magazine wants me to do their yearly. It's a huge opportunity. Calendars are fine and I'm known here a little, but this is a huge Italian gay magazine. A fashion magazine and all the photography done by Chac Alezandro. This could _make_ me."

"You know I can't."

"I _don't_ know that yet."

"No offense but you can do photography anywhere. What I do I have to do here."

Chac sounded insistent with his lips smacking down on Houses and sliding back and forth. Wilson could imagine the redness of Houses' lips from Chacs' hungry manipulations. "I'm not asking you to move there, babe . . ."

Wilson almost laughed at Chac's gaff. House _hated_ that word. He'd told Wilson that once, even correcting Stacey when she had used it.

House didn't correct Chacs' blunder, he just went on letting Chac kiss him and talk him into a trip to fucking _Italy!_

" . . .it'll be eight, ten months tops. Just visit every couple of months. You've got vacation saved up, right? Fly out every two months for a week. I'll pay half the fare. Shit - I'll pay all of it."

House didn't answer and Wilson let out a sigh of relief. House would never abandon his career at Plainsborough. Cuddy wanted him there. Diagnostics was her pet. So was House in a weird sort of way. Besides, no one else would put up with him.

Chac was not one to give up easily and he sweetened the pot. "We can rent a beach house. This project will not only make my name, I'll be banking a cool half million from it. We can spend the evenings drinking, eating at the best restaurants, and fucking in every goddamn room in the place."

Wilson held his breath.

House would refuse. Tell him he was still just a kid. Say he, House, had no intention of flying off on a romantic rendevous like a ripened San Francisco _fruit._

Wilson heard House shift beneath Chac with a small grunt. He imagined Chac was lying on Houses' painful leg and though he knew it was hurting House, he was secretly glad over Chacs' carelessness. Now House would never say -

"Okay."

XXX

Wilson hung around Houses' office, but just down the hall, until he saw House enter and sit down. Wilson stood his ground with itching feet and nervous, sweating hands thrust deep into straining pockets. He had to stop this. He had to convince House it was a bad idea. But first he had to convince himself it was a good idea to convince House it was a bad idea.

He had no reason to stop House from living his life. Reason, actually, had left him.

"Are you okay?" Hadley was there beside him from out of nowhere.

May as well be honest. "No."

"You're more than his best friend." She guessed correctly. "Or you want to be at least."

Wilson looked at his cowardly unmoving feet. He sighed and that was enough of an affirmation.

"The best way to kill pain is to go to the doctor."

Wilson watched her walk away with a mix of agreement and resentment. He was fine.

He had been stubbornly telling himself that since he arrived home Sunday night to Amber's fuming face and angry words. He repeated it to himself while spilling his guts in apologies, over the fish cake dinner and their make-up sex.

Why couldn't saying a thing make it true?

"House - what are you doing?"

House finished his bowl of Cheerios and gave Wilson a very puzzled look. "Breakfast. After breakfast, I plan on taking a pee. After that I might work. Eventually. You know, just before lunch break."

"I mean . . .you're planning, . . .you're . . .you're really serious about his guy aren't you?"

House rolled his eyes, threw Wilson a look of _why is your nose in my business again? "_Why does it matter to you?"

"You're my friend."

"Do I interfere in your relationships? - Don't answer that. Do I interfere after you've told me to mind my own damn business? - Don't answer that either. "Chac's smart. He's horny and fun and I like him. Satisfied?"

Wilson felt his heart shiver in his chest like it knew before he did that he was going to lose this game. "Are you . . .happy?" Wilson held up his palms in surrender. "I'm not going to ask any questions after this one. This will be it. I just want to know, as a friend who cares, I just want to be sure: Are you actually happy, i mean with Chac?"

House swivelled in his chair. He stared at Wilson like he was seeing something he hadn't noticed before. Wilson really was concerned about his happiness. House felt sort of privileged. Wilson had only genuinely cared about three people as far as House knew, none of them his wives.

His parents, his missing brother were absolutes. Amber was a maybe.

"I'm . . _. liking_ what's happening."

Wilson thrust his hands back into his worried pockets and nodded, trying to appear glad for House. And trying not to reveal that he had been having erotic dreams about him ever since ear-witnessing Houses' vigorous and drawn-out love-encounter with Chac on the floor of the photographers office just the day before.

Wilson had waited until they left and himself slipped out unobserved. He had chartered a flight and arrived home just before seven PM, tired and heart-torn.

House was happy. Wilson would have to accept that and step aside. Step back and reject all wants in which House figured. But he needed to know how open House was going to be with him. House may not have been hiding the relationship from him anymore, but what else might he hide? What depths of it might he not reveal? Lovers' details of which Wilson already knew. "Taking any vacation this year?"

House looked away from Wilson now. He turned to his blank computer screen that possessed no dark, penetrating pair of eyes and asked no hard questions. "Yeah. I might take a week and go see my parents."

A lie so obvious Wilson felt hurt. But Houses' private life or private _lies_ were no longer any of his business. "Yeah." He answered. "Me too."

XXX

Part IV ASAP!


	4. Chapter 4

Rewind

--

(Sequel to Click Baby Click)

Part IV

By GeeLady

Summary: Chac the photographer wants House (and not just on film). Wilson is in a mid-life crises..._you _do the math.

Rating: M. Adult. NC-17 Slash, language.

Pairing: House/Chac & H/Wilson.

Disclaimer: I manipulate the sexy House and others to my hearts content. No fee's, no earnings,...just fun!

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The universe abhorred a stalemate and so did not allow events to rest as is.

Wilson mulled over Houses' impending trip to Italy until he could stand it no more. But first things first.

"Amber . . ."

Amber turned to him in their love bed of four and one half months, cynical to a fault about Wilsons' neediness where House was concerned. Wearied with it. "Let me guess: House needs you to get his groceries. His bike broke down and he needs money. His parents are coming to town and he wants to hide here for a few days. He's lonely. He's sick. He's bored and needs Wilson to relieve that boredom by taking him to a strip club. He's in pain and forgot to get his weekly Vicodin. He needs you to do his laundry--"

"-I get the point." Wilson stopped her, sitting up in bed and perching on the edge of it, away from striking distance of her strong hands. "It's simpler than that." Wilson sucked in a breath. He could hardly believe he was about to say what he had decided to say. Again, he was ending a relationship over House. This time for what he believed was the real reason. Impossible feelings he couldn't deny anymore that he had to say or live with the lies. He was tired of lies and Amber deserved more than to be second fiddle.

Looking at Amber, feeling like a cad -- "I think I'm in love with him."

One swiftly packed suitcase later he was driving himself to Houses' apartment, hoping he hadn't blown his chances to make something in his life go right.

He arrived, parking his car on the street out front. Houses' bike was not there. Wilson decided to wait for a while. Somehow he felt if House found him in his apartment again, he might question his reason for being there; assume he was checking up on him or snooping again. House inviting him in would feel more sincere.

A taxi drove up and stopped. Chac climbed out of the back seat and walked to Houses' door. Fishing in his pocket he withdrew a key. Wilson almost choked on his own tongue.

Chac had been granted a key to Houses' place. No one other than himself had even been given a spare. _No one_!

Chac turned the key in the lock and walked in like he was already Houses' permanent bed mate. Miserably Wilson sat watching Chac through the large undraped window, walking around inside casually as he pleased turning on lights and making, no doubt, use of the bathroom. Probably helping himself to a beer from Houses' fridge too.

Where the hell was House?

He had not heard if Houses' patient was crashing. Maybe House had to stay later than expected at the hospital?

Wilson walked to the door. This young man had asked House to go to Italy.

Wilson rapped on the dark wood. House had said yes.

Wilson waited, tapping his foot nervously. House hadn't been out of the country since before the infarction.

Chac opened the door. His face said he was unsurprised to find Wilson standing there and, even though both knew they really had nothing to say to each other, he stepped aside so Wilson could enter.

But seeing Wilsons' strained mouth and tense posture, Chac found something to say. "If you're in love with him, why haven't you told him?"

Wilson felt offended. Because it's none of your damn business! Then remembered that he had been all but stalking the two of them, awkwardly trying to wedge somewhere into their business as much as possible.

Wilson stared at Chac. Chac stood by Houses' piano, leaned against it like he belonged, and stared back.

Suddenly it occurred to Wilson that Chac might not know House as well as he thought he did. As well as he needed to, if this relationship between them was going to go anywhere. Not that he actually wanted it to. "Have you ever seen House off his Vicodin?"

Chac shook his head. "But I know when he's in pain. I know he has pain every day."

"He's an alcoholic. Did you know that?"

"He drinks a lot but no I haven't asked him. And I don't care."

"He's impulsive, rude and risks his life regularly."

"But to achieve something I'm betting."

"Sure. Sometimes just to see if there's an after-life."

That did give Chac a few seconds of pause. But, "Did he get his answer?"

Wilson was irritated by the mans' fortitude. He seemed able to sake his away around any cause for worry. "He lies when it suites him. He hates birthdays, Christmas and Easter--"

"--Or even getting his picture taken. Hell of a model he turned out to be though."

Wilson furrowed his brows and licked his lips. "When House had the infarction he pushed his girlfriend at the time away so thoroughly, she basically abandoned him. When a man House must have insulted walked into his office and shot him twice, he almost died. He forged prescriptions, insulted and assaulted a cop, almost went to jail, faked brain cancer, stuck a knife in a wall socket, allowed possibly deadly tainted blood to be transfused into his body and--"

"--he's a bit nuts, yeah, I get it."

Wilson waved a hand back and forth between Chac and a House who was not presently in the room. "Is this just physical? I mean, have you bought matching towels or gotten a lay-away plan on a ring? House is pretty much allergic to intimacy and marriage, and well--"

"--I hear you've perfected that domestic art."

Wilson stopped. House and Chac had clearly had a few conversations about him. He wondered which of them had brought him up. "House hasn't been with anyone - that he hasn't paid for - for many years . . ." Wilson didn't know just how to say the next part but his guts were tight with the need to. Suddenly he wanted to take House away from this younger, better looking, more exciting man who was making House happy. And that made no sense what-so-ever if he himself loved House the way he thought he did.

But he also wanted to protect House from any more heartache. House was a tough customer in almost every way but one -- the walls of his heart were as thin as a five thousand year old china cup. When it broke, there was almost no putting it back together.

"He's as obsessive with his love affairs as he is with anything else he does and that would frighten most people . . ."

"What are you trying to say exactly?"

"I'm saying if you hurt him, I'll kill you."

Chac stared at the man he had swiftly come to recognize as his main rival. It was Greg who had insisted on no entanglements, no strings; that they were just having fun. Chac was fine with that. He wasn't looking for anything long term either. He was planning on banging the man as much as humanly possible until the fire for both of them died. "Are you saying you think--"

The door to Houses' apartment opened, stifling any further discussion. House entered carrying a movie in his hand and, when he saw Wilson standing by the couch staring at Chac across the room like a vulture, slammed the door and limped passed him with a look that would level a city.

House ignored both of his guests for a moment while he stashed his coat in the closet, then turned to the living room where his friend and lover appeared to be in a draw for who would pull the trigger on the next verbal shot. Two gunslingers in a cheesy western would not have looked more ridiculous.

Other than unfiltered irritation House angrily smothered the tumult of his own emotions and gave each of them a fully formed Housian scowl. "Saucer of milk ladies?" He quipped and sat himself down in his easy chair, across the room and away from both of them.

Then to Wilson exclusively, "What are you doing here?"

Correctly sensing an ensuing fight, Chac made a motion to rise, intending to leave.

House stopped him with a short bark. "Chac. Sit. _Wilson_ was just on his way out."

Chac spread his hands to no one and seated himself, trying to relax in the tension that couldn't be touched with a chainsaw. But he knew how stubborn his lover could be. "Just _talk_ to him, Greg."

With that prompt, House looked at Wilson and found the insight to see his friend was in some sort of personal agony. House nodded, threw Chac a look that Chac correctly understood to mean vanish for a few, and Chac padded in his bare feet to Houses' bedroom, closing the door.

House looked up at Wilson, waiting like a professor with a delinquent student.

"When's the flight?" Wilson blurted, horrified at himself.

House narrowed angry eyes. Wilson had been snooping. "You're beginning to act like, like..."

"--You." Wilson finished for him. "I know. I don't mean to -- it's just this, him and you, is unexpected. You never said you were gay."

"You're really bothered by this aren't you? Huh."

"What "huh"? I'm not bothered by it."

"I'm not gay."

"Oh. I guess the sleeping with a homosexual man is just for the conversation."

"I'm sleeping with him because he's young and hot and has made it clear he wants to nail me from now until the end of the century which suits me fine. I'm pretty sure we've already covered this _Dad."_

"Oh. My mistake."

"You _are_ bothered by this. Really bothered. Why?"

"I'm not. But you've been hiding your, let's face it, hetero-based homosexual proclivities."

"I haven't been hiding, you've just been ignoring me. The tendency is it brings about the similar state of: _Wilson doesn't know what's going on in Houses' private life_. That's the kinda' the way I like it I think. I have a dying patient. When Chac's here, I try to see him in between thirty-six hour shifts. Sorry that I haven't have time to type you out my itinerary."

"House-"

"Go home. you've ruined my evening, no reason you have to ruin hers too."

"Uh, I, um, I was just-" Wilson stammered.

"Checking up on me? Making sure my feet were still on the correct sides? Ensuring I have plenty of condoms and toothpaste? Or, let me see, you were worried that I'm not in fact fully grown and can handle my own damn relationships?"

Wilson squeaked, "Something like that." He watched his feet, rocking on his heels. The silence in the room was excruciating. "I came here hoping I could talk to you alone."

House spread his hands. "We're alone."

Wilson wanted to sink into the cracks between the floorboards. If he could take House with him, he would. "I broke up with Amber today."

House was still peeved. "So, no divorce then? Well, _that_ pattern's broken at least." But relented when he saw the disquietude in Wilsons' features. His flesh was pulled taut across his cheekbones, the blood vessels obvious beneath his pale skin. Was he sick? "What's going on? Amber taking you to the cleaners?"

"How long are you going for?" Wilson knew he sounded like a jealous ten year old but he couldn't help himself.

"Chac's flying out tomorrow which is why he's here tonight for a goodbye bang. In a few days when he finds a place, I'll be flying there too for a week of raunchy, Italian-flavored homo-sex." House leaned back in his easy chair, bone tired. "Anything else?"

Wilson lost his nerve. It couldn't be done. Not with Chac in the next room and House just barely speaking to him. "I guess not."

House knew something was definitely up with his friend. He couldn't put his finger on what but the safest assumption was depression over Amber. "Look," He tried for kind, "when I get back, we'll catch a live game and get stinking drunk. You can tell me all about your latest heartbreak."

Wilson nodded. Houses' words were facetious but his expression wasn't. House-brand sensitivity. Wilson wanted to throw his arms around him and hold on tight - smell his hair and take in the feel of his body for the first - maybe only - time, just in case this thing with Chac was more serious than either man yet recognized.

Aching inside, "Have a good trip."

Chac came out to the living room when he heard the front door close. He sat beside Greg, leaned over and kissed him, trying to ease some of the tension that was turning him into a question mark. "Wilson's a closet case."

"That's what you said about me."

"I was wrong about you. You're a sexual voyager - trying on for size - if you get me."

"Wilson is not in the closet."

"No. He's in the basement. He's terrified of his feelings for you. They don't fall into the neat little slots he's made of his life."

"There are no "feelings"."

"Greg. I caught the man drooling over your photos. He's got a hard on for you that stretches from here to there."

"Blue pills."

"He chased you down in New York. Twice!"

"Even if he's curious, he's involved. Milk-duds, squish muffin and all."

"_Was_ involved. He broke up with her. And then he came here."

"Wilson's a skirt chaser. So was I until you convinced me to try pants."

"You talk about him all the time." Chac kissed him in between words, wanting to get the mood back to where it was before the interruption by Houses' not-gay-but-acts -gay best friend. "As long as it's only talk." Chac moved his hand to Houses' crotch and grabbed hold. "Because right now, I've got dibs on your cock."

XXX

Wilson, single once more, moved back to his customary hotel. The manager and desk clerks all greeted him by name.

Several days passed and House did not receive his phone call. Wilson was secretly glad but stepping on glass around House who, whenever he didn't think anyone was looking, fell into dark, puzzled stares at nothing.

Wilson was beginning to feel sorry for him and feared Chac had meant more to House than House had to Chac. If the son-of-a-bitch wanted to break up he could have at least had the dignity to do it to Houses' face instead of flying to freedom with a pasted smile.

At the end of the week Wilson sat down to lunch and spread out the newspaper, sighing into his coffee. He rarely had the time to read for pleasure. House was no where to be seen and Wilson suspected he had taken to eating lunch at his desk to either avoid all people collectively or just him. He flipped through Arts, Religion and Sports to arrive at International News.

Nothing very interesting presented itself until one two inch square paragraph buried on page eight caught his eye. It spoke of a jetliner that had gone down in the Atlantic. The news was days old, but it gave the date of it's departure and from where. It must have made the news-casters but if so he had missed it. He and House both worked long hours. Some nights well passed bed time.

Wilson entered the Diagnostics office and sat in front of Houses' desk. House snacking on potato chips and reading pages of lab results, looked up.

"How's your patient?" Wilson asked. Anything to break the silence with something other than his next question.

"Responding to treatment. But something else is going on." An uncharacteristically short answer for the usually verbose doctor.

Wilson, clearing his throat, asked, "Um, what -- do you remember, um, which airline Chac . . .took?"

Not a man to bother with such details, especially when they were not his own, "Delta I think."

"It was direct? Out of New York?"

Wilson could see the light of wariness in Houses' otherwise occupied expression. But he nodded. "I think so."

Wilson had the newspaper folded to the article in question and passed it across the desk. "I'm so sorry."

House stared only for a second before taking the paper and reading for himself. He dropped the paper on the desk and leaned back in his chair. Only his best friend would have noted anything out of wack in his manner. To anyone else House appeared calm, assured and together. "I guess that explains no phone call."

"House--"

But House was having none of it. He pushed himself to his feet and caned his way out the door. "Work to do. I've got a patient."

XXX

He entered the CT Room to find his three fellowships and Foreman discussing his newest sick person. "CT done yet?"

"Nothing in her brain."

Short and sweet, "MRI her spine." House said.

"MRI her spine?" Hadley said.

"Yeah. It's that long, spiky thing below her head." House joked.

Kutner spoke cautiously. Joke or no joke, Houses' manner was tight and stony. "We haven't finished the CT yet. It might show something in her spine --"

"--Just do what the hell I tell you!" House shouted and left the room.

The four looked at each other. Foreman took up the gauntlet and followed House down the hall. "Hey. Your typical lack of human feeling aside, they didn't deserve that. _You_ wanted the damn body scan."

House kept walking. "And now I want a damn MRI."

"The CT will show something."

House stopped. "Oh. Good thing we have you with the X-Ray vision. Where's the problem Foreman? Tell me and we won't have to complete the scan. Save Cuddy a few dollars."

Foreman shook his head a little. "Even when you're being a jerk, you have a valid reason for dumping one uncompleted test for another. What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing." House started walking again, arriving at the elevator, irritated that Foremen would not be shaken off so easily.

Foreman did not step in with him. "We're finishing the CT."

House glared at him with venomous eyes but said "Fine." And punched the up button until his finger hurt.

XXX

Now that the field was clear, Wilson wasn't positive he'd be welcomed in the game. How serious had been the game House was keeping to himself. Wilson knew House was staying late as he had done for a week, refusing all noises of sympathy or offers to listen.

"Nothing to listen to." House had assured him.

He had made similar remarks when Stacy had left. But this couldn't have been that serious, Wilson reasoned. house and Stacy had been five years. Chac was maybe three months. _I like what's happening. _

How deeply had the like gone?

Wilson caught House as his desk one evening long after the fellowships, and almost everyone else, had gone home.

House didn't look up from his computer game. A CGI man in fatigues shot at mutants pouring out of a spaceship. "If you're here to stroke my feelings, I already took care of that in the shower."

Wilson ignored the crude joke. "I'm here to keep you company."

House pointed at the screen. "I got alien mutants after me to join their breeding program, what more could I want?"

"You miss him."

House turned back to his game. "We exchanged body fluids, not rings."

"You were planning on sharing your holidays with him." Wilson waved a finger back and forth between them. "You and I have never done that."

"You've never given me countless hours of mind blowing sex before."

House suddenly realised Wilson had wheedled an actual feeling out of him and him shut it down flat. "Chac was no strings, consequence free sex." House stood and grabbed his cane, a sure sign the conversation was getting to him. "When I want a complicated, sexless marriage, I'll come to you."

Wilson ignored the insult. House was deflecting. Desperately. And he was slipping into his coat and walking out, hoping that Wilson would not follow.

But of course he did."House."

"_Wilson_?"

Wilson grabbed his left shoulder and made him turn to look at him. House glanced around the hallway. One nurse was walking by pushing a tray of medications. A janitor was using his round polisher on the floor.

House tried to shake Wilson off but Wilson was too quick and too strong for him, steering House into a nearby empty office before the older man could invent a protest.

"Did you love him?" It was a cruel question. It was personal and none of his business and too soon. But he _had_ to know.

House should have socked him but he was vulnerable and in the rare, unguarded moment, answered with candor. "I . . .I don't know." Shaking his head. "I, . . .maybe."

"I'm sorry." Wilson wrapped his arms around House and drew him into a tender embrace. To Houses shock, Wilson kissed his cheek, making House break the hug and step back. "What the hell is this, some akind of joke?"

Wilson felt like a fool. "No. I just wanted, I 'm, . . ." A powerful desire rushed through him to forge ahead and damn the consequences. There never may come another opportunity like this. Being this close to House with House so vulnerable, so needy . . Wilson ignored Houses startled look and gently kissed him full on the mouth, lingering before stepping back himself.

House didn't say a thing. He just stared at Wilson for a few seconds, his face inscrutable. Then he slowly and deliberately left the office, like a man in shock.

Wilson had no idea what it meant and he was too afraid to follow. Too afraid to push it.

He felt relieved to have finally made his meaning clear. Not in the best way, and certainly not at the best time. But House now knew.

Never-the-less Wilson was left with a dreadful feeling of Okay, idiot, _now _what?

XXX


	5. Chapter 5

Rewind

--f

(Sequel to Click Baby Click)

Part V

By GeeLady

Summary: Chac the photographer wants House (and not just on film). Wilson is in a mid-life crises..._you _do the math.

Rating: M. Adult. NC-17 Slash, language.

Pairing: House/Chac & H/Wilson.

Disclaimer: I manipulate the sexy House and others to my hearts content. No fee's, no earnings,...just fun!

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The first thing Wilson was aware of was a feeling of being watched. In a dark bedroom when you are woken up from a deep sleep for a reason unknown, that is a scary feeling. But then he felt the bed dip and knew immediately who had invaded his dreams. "What are you doing here, House?"

"What do you think?"

Wilson could smell the pungent odor of bourbon on his friends' breath. "Are you drunk?"

"Almost. I had to ride here after all."

"Back to my first question. Why are you here?"

Suddenly House had flopped down almost on top of him and Wilson had to squirm to get Houses' heavy knee off the more delicate portion of his nether region.

House was in his most elemental form: Your best friend kisses you? Walk away! When the friend least expects it - dive bomb him in his own bed! But as much as Wilson wanted him to be, House was in no form to complete the mission. "You rode over here drunk?"

"Walking would hurt."

Wilson shoved House off as best he could and switched on his bedside lamp. Squinting his eyes, he looked at his inebriated friend. House was dressed in jeans and a white tee-shirt. His feet were bare.

"Where are your shoes?"

"I'm not too drunk to know you value your floors more than you value my comfort."

"Right. I'm an asshole."

House reached for him, trying to pull him back down into a drunken embrace. "Some on, Housie's here. Let's do this thing."

Wilson dropped his legs over the bed and stood. "_Not_ turning me on, House."

Houses' arm fell short of grabbing Wilsons' butt cheek and sighed. "This afternoon you were all over me with your lips. The whole snack is here and you're not hungry anymore?"

"You're not sober. And you're here because you miss _him_."

House sighed loudly. "You're such a stickler for details."

Wilson felt a little glad that at least House had chosen to come to him and not some smooth chested hooker, but a little insulted that he was being played for a back-up. He padded to his bright, well equipped kitchen and prepared drip coffee. The grinder filled the air with the fresh smell of expensive Arabian beans. He kept the button pressed down until the stuff turned to a powder. Still he kept his finger hard in place until finally he wearily gave in. The tiny coffee grinder was no substitute for hitting the wall with ones' fist. Angry hands changed the filter with lightening motions, pouring the grounds in until it overflowed. "_Son_-of-a--"

He listened as House made use of his bathroom then heard the front door open.

Wilson caught him just as he was stepping out. "Things didn't go the way you wanted so now you're running away? You're like a kid, you not only play by your own rules you expect everybody else to."

"At least I have them."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you're not trustworthy." House took a few deep breaths of night air, trying to sober up. He shouldn't have come here. "I miss him." He said the lamp lighted street and not to Wilson. It was the first time he had admitted it. Not even to himself had he allowed the feeling until now. House was surprised at himself. Missing someone had been nine long years coming. "But that's okay," House spoke to the sidewalk, "because we both knew it would end. We enjoyed each other." Chac was gone and Wilson was standing there and House had no idea what he really felt for him anymore. Once upon a time, before Chac, before Amber, before he felt his chest hollowing out again . . .

House threw a lazy arm at Wilson. "You shrug in and out of relationships like they were an overcoat."

Wilson wanted to argue the point but he pretty well held the record at work for most relationships won and lost over fifteen years. Three marriages (not including Grace), half a dozen girlfriends, and most recently Amber whom he had just dumped. All over House.

Did he want him? Sure. Did he want him while he was pining after Chac?

Harder question.

Wilson grumbled for the hundredth time. "I spent my time with you because my marriages sucked."

"Oh, stop using that tired old excuse. Your marriages sucked _because_ you spent time with me."

Wilson knew it for the truth it was. None of those women had excited him as much as House did. None of them were as interesting or funny or frustrating or challenging. Next to House, they were a string of Also-rans. Amber had come the closest and Wilson had tried for a while not to think about the reasons why.

Until he saw House stepping around the East coast with Chac. A monthly event that had quickly become intolerable.

"I'm not an idiot." House observed for him. "I can tell when someone's trying to get in my pants."

Wilson stepped close to him. Real close. He put one hand on Houses' tense shoulder, the blood fired flesh warm beneath his fingers. "That's not all I'm interested in."

House nodded. Clearly he recognized that too. "But that's all I can offer you. I can't risk you, Doctor Wilson. You're . . .too unstable."

The Doctor Wilson bit hurt. In the past, he was unsteady in his relationships. However that was then and this was _now_. "For you, I wouldn't be."

"Why?"

"What do you mean _why_?"

"Why would I be any different?"

Wilson stared back thoughtfully but said nothing. Other than he felt Houses' mind, body and eyes seductively eviscerating his private soul on a daily basis, he honestly didn't know.

House nodded. "Who said no answer _is_ an answer? Me, that's who."

"Right." Wilson wanted to assure him that he loved House and had for many years. But he knew his track record was atrocious and words would not convince House anyway. Only one thing would - time. But that too would remain irrelevant if he could not get House to even begin to trust him. "So all you're looking for from me is what you had with him? Hard, fast fucking?" Wilson asked, knowing it would sting him.

Houses' eyes shifted from Wilson to the dark outside. "That's all he wanted. It's all I expected. That's all I've gotten since Stacy." House stopped there, not wanting to sound pathetic even though that's how he felt. "No expectations means no disappointments. I didn't have to think about Chac and me going anywhere."

Wilson knew House was evading. "You said to me you thought you might have loved him."

"Doesn't matter now, does it?"

"With you, I guess not. With love - you're a take it or leave it kind of guy."

"You do it all the time."

That _did_ sting. "How do you know I won't love you? Stay with you?"

"I don't. That's the problem."

House limped away. "See you at work."

For a minute, Wilson watched his friend limp away, then shut the door.

XXX

"Talk to me." House entered the conference room and slung his backpack on the table. He looked around. "Where's Foreman?"

Foreman who was sitting right there, rolled his eyes. House feigned startlement. "Oh - there you are. Have you've changed your hair?" House looked at the lot of them. "Hey, why the sour faces? It's morning. The sun is peeking its smiling face above the smog, our patient . . .How is our patient by the way? Still aching in all the wrong places?"

Hadley exchanged looks with Kutner, Taub and Foreman. House was shrouded in false bravado.

"You already diagnosed her. Ankylosing Spondylitis complicated by Meningitis. She's getting treatment." Hadley answered, not a fan of House jokes. She held up a file they had previously been pursuing. "New case. Patient presents with extreme fatigue and grogginess. Been to four doctors, three hospitals and a Guru -"

"-Getting any?" House asked.

Hadley frowned. "Ah . . .I don't know."

"Then your patient history sucks. Sexually or non-sexually active is among the questions you're are supposed to ask."

Hadley said, "The patient is sleepy."

"Working too hard." Houses' answers were clipped. He was already bored.

"And can't concentrate." She added.

"Distracted by a lack of sex."

Finishing with, "And has elevated BP and headaches." Hadley waved the file in his face.

House announced. "The patient is pregnant."

"No." Taub answered.

"Too much work plus too little sex equals can't concentrate and sleepiness. She's depressed. Send her home." He poured a coffee.

Hadley knew it was a game with House. So she upped the anti. "Patient broke left wrist three months ago, it won't heal properly. And patient isn't pregnant because he's a man."

"Okay. _He's_ depressed. Send _him_ home."

"He's not depressed."

"How old is he?" House took the file and read it over a bit. "Twenty-five. No recent infections. Hmm. Are you sure he's a he? Could be wearing a sock you know. Not that _I_ have any reason to know about that trick --"

"Oh, right. Everybody lies." Hadley said.

"See? Isn't that just like a woman?" House replied. "But just for the hell of it do a head scan, tox' screen and full blood panel. Let's see what's ailing Missus Mister."

XXX

A few minutes of office quiet to think about his new patient was interrupted by Wilson.

_Wilson of the supple lips._ "What?"

Wilson stood at the door, half in and half out of the room. Kind of like the way he ran his marriages.

House knew Wilson wanted to talk about his feelings for Chac or his feelings for Wilson or visa-versa and he didn't have the stomach for it right then. He didn't know how he had felt for Chac and he didn't know how he felt for Wilson. Not yet. Talking about anything so emotionally will o' the wisp was a waste of time. All he knew is for the first time in years he'd had a good thing with Chac and now Chac was dead. Tough titty. Buck-up. Life goes on and all that shit.

"Can I talk to you?"

"You already are."

"Don't be flip."

"Sorry. Flip is all that's being served here." He loved Wilson. Yes, that was probably true. Too bad Wilson was an untrustworthy, cheating slut. Amber was the man's fourth relationship (not including dying cancer patient Grace or his half dozen one to three night stands) inside of twelve years the man had either destroyed by infidelity, neglect or abandoned for reasons unknown.

"I want to talk about two nights ago."

House sighed. "Right. I was drunk and I'll never do it again. Scouts honor."

Wilson stood in front of House, looking down on his friend. House hated the look Wilson was giving him now. Angry eyes with a soulful glazing of sweet love. "I sent you off because I didn't want you doing anything you might have regretted." Wilson took a breath like he'd rehearsed the short speech on the way over.

"Oh." House raised his eyebrows. "Okay. That it?"

"No. I . . . wanted you, but not just the physical part. I want my friend. I want House and Greg. I want it all."

House stood and gestured to him with his cane. "You get it all. Always. But you know what? With you, it's never all."

"I know what I want, House."

"You do not. You're a man-whore. Your number's all over the womens' bathroom wall. I can't trust you."

"You came to _my_ apartment."

"I got lost on the way to Church. And you do _not _know what you want. You suck up other peoples' sorrow and loneliness so you can wear your good guy outfit, flaring cape and all."

"Maybe that's true." Wilson rolled his eyes at House and himself. "Okay. That _is_ true. I'm a human tragedy vacuum. I admit it but I'm trying to change. You make me want to be a better man."

"I saw that movie. Tell your troubles to a therapist."

Anticipating that it was the usual time House tried to limp away like a wounded wolf, Wilson stepped closer. "What can I do? Tell me what I can do to convince you I'm trying to change."

House took a breath and pressed his lips together hard. "Be him."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I mean no complications. We enjoy each other. Don't try to run my life. Stop trying to fix me. Stop nagging me about my drug use and my drinking. Chac liked _me_. He liked my body and my even my scar. I didn't have to worry about him leaving because there was never any promise for him to stay."

"Uh, that _hardly_ sounds like love."

"But it's _honest_. And between a year or two of love and then see ya' around or honest, no strings sex? I'll take the sex. I didn't have to worry if Chac was going to walk out because I knew ahead of time he eventually would. He'd get tired of me or I'd get sick of him or someone else would come along."

"Sounds too easy if you ask me. _I'm_ never going to move or grow tired of you."

"Empty words. You leave everybody."

Wilson knew House had every right to suspect it. "I've stuck around for fifteen years already. You think I'll leave now?"

"You left Amber. You left your wives before the honey moons were over and they were all nice people. I'm an _ass."_

Wilson couldn't think to answer with anything but - "I love you."

"Thanks. But, again, meaningless. That's why with Chac it was perfect. At least for a while it was great." Houses' face brightened at the sudden clarity of Chac and him. "It _was_ great." House gripped his cane like it was his only friend and threw his other arm around so Wilson would gather the point. "He was crazy about me and I don't even know why. Maybe it was all him. Maybe he was _that_ perfect."

House then said words that made Wilsons' world stagger. "I've loved you for years. But I don't want to be _with_ you. I'm too old to risk whatever I have left on someone so goddamn afraid."

"_I'm_ afraid?" Wilson had thought it a noble gesture - a good thing that he left Amber for House. But House saw it simply as another Wilson abandonment. Amber had been just another hole in his relationship punch card.

"House . . ."

"I'm not going to allow room for counting on you. I can't afford it."

XXX

House arrived home only to have the doorbell ring moments later.

He just managed to finish a pee and limp back to the door before the said someone then knocked. "Keep your pants on!" House swung the door open angrily. "Wilson! Ge-"

It wasn't Wilson. A tall, slim man with olive skin and short, dark hair smiled at him from his doorstep. "Hey." He said.

House stared, his mouth hanging open. Chac was sporting a bandaged left forearm, stitches running from his left cheekbone to his hairline, a deep bruise to his other cheek, but other than those small injuries, he appeared fine.

House swallowed. "Wha-? But you, your plane - you _died_."

Chac stepped forward, brushing passed House with a slight limp, feather-touching him all over with his whole body. "Most did die, except me and about sixteen others."

House closed the door and turned to his former lover who was formerly dead. Chac dropped his small duffle bag on the floor and gingerly wrapped his right good and left injured arms around House. "I missed you babe." And kissed him deeply.

House responded like no weeks had elapsed. Chac reached out, flipped the deadbolt on Houses' door and they stumbled down the hallway, undressing each other.

In a single moment they were in the bedroom naked. In the next they were laying one on the other. Seconds after that they were entwined in ardor, swallowing each others tongues, the desire of two made more urgent by the absence of one. In less time than it took to think about it, Chac was hard and hungry, looking down on House whose legs were bent to his shoulders, his hard cock and plump balls offered up, his inviting hole waiting for Chac to do exactly as he pleased.

For many, many minutes more Chac stared at his lovers' ocean blue eyes while driving his cock into him with slow rhythmic motions, stroking his lovers erection with his strong fist and making it all last. Urging sweet moans from Gregs' throat, he was sinking into the other-world-ness of the lovers' satisfied sweat.

Chac wanted to make it all -- the weeks "dead", the coming home and whatever obscure reasons behind it all Fate had assembled in secret -- just for them. Nothing but two bodies and two minds in tune. Shadow and light in perfect balance. Chac wanted to make it go on all night. Make it hot and forbidden and lustful. Make it everything.

With great effort, Chac stilled his body - he wanted to come so badly, but instead he stared down at the perfect blues he loved so much. Eyes that had penetrated and then broken his heart over and over through the camera lense. "Tell me you want me."

House stared up at him a little lost as to his meaning. "My position kind of gives that away."

"Say you want me." Chac whispered in Houses' ear as he resumed his deep, indulgent thrusting. "Say I'm what you want. Tell me the truth, whatever it is. Say yes or no. Answer once and I'll never ask again."

House managed to gather thought, word and desire together enough to answer. "I want."

_Exactly!_ Chacs' cock answered back, pumping madly. His heart had become wound up in this man and that revelation had nudged him only after his plane had left the ground, and then plunged in killing almost everyone aboard.

He remembered thinking he'd never get to rent the beach house or have Greg in every room. That thought had been a worse pain that the hurts that came later while he was being pulled from the water.

"I love you so much." Chac whispered as his older lover moaned in his ear and they came togther. "I'm going to fuck you like this forever."

XXX

"Patient?" House asked his team as he swung his backpack down on the conference table, dropping a second package of bagels.

"Bagels?" Hadley said, peeking inside the paper bag.

"Yeah." House answered. "Little round donut-like things loved by Jews the world over."

Taub rolled his eyes but snatched one and began to chew. "Special occasion?" He asked through a mouth full.

House just chided him. "Didn't your nice Jewish mother teach you not to talk with your mouth full?"

Kutner smiled like a kid on Halloween. "Any cream cheese?"

"No." House frowned. "Do you want to get fat . . ._er_?"

House stepped into his office.

Hadley observed to the others. "He seems to be in a particularly good mood. A real one I mean, not the usual fakery."

Foreman nodded. "Frightening, isn't it?"

House was back in under a minute. "As I already asked - Patient?"

"Elevated proteins in his blood. And some very weird blood screen results."

House removed a water bottle from the small refrigerator. "Define weird."

"The blood screen showed a slightly higher level of estrogen than normal."

"Normal for whom?" House countered. "They vary between the sexes and between people within the sexes. Why is that weird?"

"His blood is also polluted with ragged epithelial."

House took the tox' screen from Hadleys' hand and checked it over himself. "No wonder he's fatigued and has headaches, his blood's thicker than syrup. And doesn't taste nearly as good I'm thinking." He handed her back the chart. "Start him on plasma pherisis. What about his wrist?"

"Shouldn't we find out what kind of cells those are in his blood?" Kutner asked. "And Wilson's doing a bone biopsy to check his marrow. Cancer could explain the bones not healing."

House stared at him, wide-eyed. "Good. Start him on pherisis. Whatever kind of cells are polluting his system need to be cleaned out or this guys' vascular system is going to turn into spaghetti. Do the pherisis and find out what kind of cells are going Ghenges Kahn on him."

XXX

Wilson, out of curiosity, checked in on Houses' team in the lab. "Where's House?" It was as good an excuse as any to interrupt.

Hadley was there with Taub. "I'll take a wild guess and say he's checking on the patient." Taub said.

Wilson nodded, not believing it for a second. "Right. I think I just heard the chilling crack of the glacier that is currently forming over Hell."

"What happened with the biopsy?" Hadley asked him, adjusting her microscope.

"Not done yet." Wilson said, leaning his angular form against the counter, watching her and Taub work.

Hadley was now peering down her scope. "Taub, you messed up the blood sample."

Taub looked insulted. "That's impossible."

"Then why does this guy have endometrial cells in his blood?"

"They can't be." Taub checked the scope. "There has to be some other explanation."

"Let me see." Wilson checked for himself. "They _look_ like ragged endometrial cells. Are you sure your patient is a man?"

Hadley nodded. "Franks and beans and not the sew-on at a future date kind, the born-with kind. Perfectly normal penis and scrotum."

Wilson repeated Hadleys' first opinion. "Taub, you mixed up the slides."

Taub frowned at both of them. "I did not mix up the damn slide. I took the blood sample from our guy, transferred it to a slide and placed it under the scope."

Hadley shrugged. "Maybe someone else mixed it up. Are you sure you didn't leave it some where and go to the bathroom or grab a coffee?"

Taub sighed. "Yes, I left the sample at the nurses station and took a pee." He admitted. "But it was there in the exact same spot when I finished. No one had touched it."

"You sure enough to take these results to House?" Wilson asked.

House would simply order him to repeat the test. Taub sighed. "Fine. I'll draw more blood."

Hadley called after her testy colleague. "Don't stop for number Two either."

Now that the mystery was temporarily on hold, Hadley looked back down the scope. Wilson who was still hanging around. More from curiosity than anything else, "Something on your mind?"

Wilson felt like he was wearing a placard that said _I'm in love with my best friend and I don't know what to do about it!_ "No. Not really -- do you feel normal? I mean being bisexual?" Wilson blushed and looked away at her somewhat dismayed expression. "Sorry. Awkward question poorly phrased."

"Doesn't matter. And, yes, I feel perfectly normal. Do you feel normal being hot for a man like House?"

Wilson shook his head. "No."

Who would for a man like _House_?

XXX

House read the blood report and then, with a scowl directed at Taub and Hadley, checked the slide. "Our guy is behaving like a woman." He announced. "At least at the cellular level. Which is weird and also kinda' cool. Too bad it's killing him."

House entered his patients' room for the first time. "Are you lying to me? Because if you are, it might cost you something. Like, I don't know, your _life."_

The patient, a dark haired young man in his mid twenties, his sharp features looking wan and pale asked, "Who are you?"

House remembered it was his first time actually in the room with the guy. "Oh. I'm Doctor House. I'm overseeing your case and a queer case it is."

"What's wrong with me?"

"Other than you're a liar? I don't know yet." House seated himself on a straight back chair. "Were you born a chick?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because your body thinks you were. And from that I can only conclude that your body is very confused or you're lying."

"I have not had a sex change. I was born a man. You can't figure out what's wrong with me?"

House shook his head. "Not yet. A doctor will be down to perform an ultra sound on your heart. We need to find what's causing the bleeding into your bloodstream. Most likely cause is a tear in the lining of your heart. Tear leaks blood and waste from your chest cavity, heart pumps it through-out your system."

"The other woman doctor said my blood had endometrial cells in it. Like . _. .menstrual_ blood?"

"They _look_ like endometrial cells but they're probably not."

"What are they then?"

"I have no idea. That's why we're going to look at your heart. If that comes back clean and your body _keeps_ telling us you're a woman, we're going on a treasure hunt."

XXX

"House, can I talk to you a minute?"

House nodded to Wilson who entered but did not approach Houses' desk. House was resting his leg and, as far as Wilson could tell, thinking.

"I thought about what you said the other day--"

"--that was last week actually."

"Yes, . ." Wilson looked uncomfortable. In fact, he looked miserable.

House felt an annoying empathy for his longest and most idiotic friend.

" . . ._last_ week." Wilson repeated. "I'm willing to go ahead with this without strings, without demands, and without any expectations." He stared at House. "As long as it goes ahead."

House pursed his lips, not looking at him for a moment. "I'm not sure it can."

Wilson stared unhappily, his expression mildly shocked. "Why not?"

"Things have . . .changed for me."

"What's changed?"

Wilson was further shocked by House being at a loss for words.

"Your feelings have changed?"

House thought for a moment. "Only one of us actually discussed feelings."

"Fine. You hate me. Then what?"

"I don't hate you, I love you. I just don't want to be with you." _Where have I heard that before?_

"Why?"

"It's personal."

Wilson heard the same two words he had shot at House often over the years whenever he didn't feel like sharing his problems or needed time away from the man. What pad-locked, awful words they were. "So - we're over before we even began for reasons that are none of my business?"

Not knowing what else to say, other than a confession that his much younger, sexier lover was alive and well and watching television in his livingroom at that very moment, House nodded.

Wilson swallowed. "Fine." It was a clipped answer. A portal snapping shut before Houses' office door could swing closed on Wilsons' retreating form, finishing the job.

House sighed. It was a weird situation. New and thoroughly unexpected. Suddenly he found himself surrounded by lovers. One wanting in and one already _in_ in every possible way.

He wondered if this is the way it had gone with Wilsons' wives.

XXX

Wilson popped his head in the conference room door. "Where's House?"

Foreman looked up from his files. "Gone home for the night."

Wilson entered and handed the file to Foreman. "This is his patient's bone biopsy results. The kids wrist won't heal properly because his bones are porous, like he was a sixty year old woman with a hunched back."

"Osteoporosis? He's twenty-five."

"His bones think they're a lot older."

Foreman phoned House to give him the results.

"_Hello?" _It was a mans' voice. Not House.

Foreman checked the LED display on the number he had just dialed. It was Houses' correct home number. "Uh, I need to speak to Doctor House."

"_Sure."_

After a moment --_ "House."_

"The kids' body's acting more and more like a girl. A very old girl." Foreman explained the biopsy results.

"_Heart?"_

"Clean."

House was silent for a few seconds. "_Ultrasound his abdomen."_

"What am I looking for?"

_"He's pregnant."_

"Uh. No he's not. He being - operative word - a _he_."

"_Just do it." _House hung up.

"That was weird." Foreman said to Wilson.

"What was weird? That House was rude on the phone? That was probably his nice phone voice."

"No. House is an only child, right?"

Wilson nodded.

"Does he have any cousins that might be visiting?"

"If he did, do you think they would really want to stay with _him_?"

"Well, somebody is."

"Really?" Wilson searched through his mental House file and could come up with a couple of distant half-nephews-once removed or something like that. No one he could imagine might be paying House a social call. "That _is_ weird."

Wilson made an excuse and left. It was weird. And alarming. Had House already taken up with someone else? More likely he had phoned Hookers R Us and booked a stud for the night.

Wilson felt stung. House had said no to him - a sure thing. At least from his end it was sure. From Houses' end, it was, well, _he_ was untrustworthy. Wilson knew he was untrustworthy, but only where House _didn't_ figure in the formula. It was like Hadley said, his curiosity over House was not new. It was old. Untapped. Unfulfilled.

Wilson gathered his keys and coat.

Time to make a House call.

XXX

Taub and Hadley looked at the sonograph. "Oh my god." Hadley said.

On the graph was a clearly defined uterus, fallopian tubes and ovaries. The rest of the equipment, including the playpen, were absent.

"He is a woman." Taub said.

Hadley called House.

From the earpiece, "_Told you_."

The man was insufferable. Hadley switched the phone to Speaker

"_He's not really pregnant, unless one of his own little rotary boys invaded his own uterus and did the dirty deed. How cool would that be? A guy accidently gets himself pregnant. I love my job." _

"What do we do about it?" Taub asked. .

"_Tell him he's got Extreme Progestin Induced Virilization__and ask him if he wants his feminine side removed. But get some pictures. This has got to go in the weirdest cases ever file."_

XXX

"I am not a woman!" The young man insisted, shouting.

Foreman nodded. "No, but your mother did take progestin prenatally. There's lots of religious or socio-economic reasons a woman might do that - boys are more valued than women in some cultures, but I'm assuming nothing except that your parents immigrated to the United States?"

The kid nodded.

Foreman nodded an _I thought so_. "Because taking that drug to induce virilization in a fetus is illegal here. Sometimes strong familial or religious views on the value of boys over girls can push some women to take that step. It rarely produces someone with such markedly normal external male characteristics, such as in your case. But internally, you're all woman. Unfortunately, your genetically female components included a predisposition to early onset osteoporosis which also means you might have Celiac Disease. But that's treatable by diet. Physically, you're male and partly female. Genetically you're more female than male."

"You mean I'm a freak?"

Kutner answered. "No. You're perfectly fine. It's just a genetic condition. Your testes appear normal as well, but we'll do a sperm count to be sure."

"What do I do about the stuff inside me?"

"If you want, we can remove it. It's leaking endometrial fluid from a small rupture into an intermediary vein, polluting your blood and making you fatigued. Unfortunately we can't do anything about the osteoporosis. You should see your regular practitioner about calcium supplements and strength training. Build your muscles." Foreman explained.

"What do I tell my friends? What do I tell my girlfriend?!"

"Nothing." Hadley said. "It's none of their business. And it's nothing to be ashamed of."

XXX

Wilson did not expect a ghost to answer Houses' front door.

But a ghost is what he saw when it opened. A tall, dark haired, attractive ghost who smiled pleasantly at him. "Doctor Wilson." A tune started in Wilsons' mystified mind. _"The Chac came back. He wouldn't stay away . . ."_

Wilson entered, still gaping at the man who was supposed to be dead. "How-?"

"I was in a hospital in Lisbon for almost three weeks. Cracked ribs, burns, almost cracked my skull open in the crash. Not many lived."

"Lucky." Wilson said, hoping he sounded sincere. Secretly, Chac being out of the way had left the field clear for him to move in on House - had House been in any way willing to let him. Now that Houses' boyfriend was back, he was in trouble.

House was carrying two beers from the kitchen to the coffee table. Wilson couldn't recall a time when House had carried anything for him. Not with his leg. But here he was serving Chac a _beverage_. It was queer and not in that sense. House hadn't done any carrying of beverage or food since Stacy and that meant -

When House saw him, without a word he returned to the kitchen for a third beer, handing it to Wilson and waving him to sit. Feeling unwanted, Wilson sat in Houses' easy chair while Chac seated himself next to House. Right next to him, so their body heat would find each other and mix.

Chac could sense something was up between the two. "Things got interesting while I was away?" Chac asked both of them and neither.

Wilson looked angry and House frowned. The tension in the air thickened until Wilson didn't think he'd be able to move if he didn't say something. "I've known House for fifteen years." He blurted.

House looked at him with something like shock. It had sounded exactly like a challenge. Wilson had thrown down a gauntlet, trying to claim back his territory.

House glanced left to Chac beside him, curious as to how would his reborn lover might respond.

Chac didn't skip a beat. "I've been _fucking _him for over four months."

House couldn't help a self indulgent smile. Good one.

"I've loved him before you were in Junior High."

"I loved him before _you_ knew what was happening." Chac said. "And funny that he didn't mention this great love of yours."

Wilson fell silent, desperately trying to think up a smart ass remark that would put Chac in his place. Nothing emerged.

House was smiling.

"What are you so happy about?" Wilson asked.

"Wow. I'm being fought over. This is good."

Wilson tossed a rolling of the eyes at Chac who laughed. He responded with as look of sympathy to Wilson. A shared House-born annoyance. Both knew House well enough, though, to ignore his childish amusement.

As much as Wilson resented the man, he couldn't help but warm to Chac just a little for that. Never-the-less -- Wilson sat forward and addressed House directly. "You're going to have to choose."

Houses' good humor vanished. "Why the hell should I?" House tossed a thumb over his shoulder to Chac. "Besides, he got here first."

Wilson looked crestfallen. "I want you to say it."

"Say what?" House asked. Wilsons' misting eyes suddenly threw him. The stupid son-of-a-bitch really was in love. "Oh, god." House slumped and turned to Chac. "He wants me to choose."

"I heard."

"You good with that?" House asked him.

Chac shrugged. "What choice do I have? You know how I feel."

Wilson wondered just what Chac felt and how did House know?

House turned back to Wilson. "Fine. I'll choose between you two bozo's. But on one condition. My choice stands. No argument. No negotiation, and especially no whining. Deal?"

Wilson didn't think it was a good idea at all and now mentally kicked himself for suggesting it. He would rather have gotten House alone and convinced him by words and deeds (meaning _I love you's_ and hard core sex) to get House to wanting him. Now . . .Wilson whispered "deal", terrified that this was it. For him, game over.

Chac appeared calm as sunshine, obviously convinced where House was concerned that he was going to come out on top, in a manner of speaking.

House nodded. "Then my choice is both."

Chac leaned back, chuckling softly. He should have expected this. Of course House would choose the most complicated solution but one which got him everything he wanted. Chac, though, found he didn't mind at all. Wilson was nothing if not intriguing. Any man who had remained friends with such a wild creature like Greg House had to be special.

Wilson was saying, "You can't-"

"- No whining!" House reminded him.

Chac studied Houses' friend Wilson and correctly concluded that he wasn't one to submit easily. With House, you dare not.

"House." Wilson patiently explained, "A choice is between the two of us. Meaning either Chac or myself."

"You gave me no specific parameters. I made a choice for both, so it's both or neither. The bell has rung."

House turned to Chac. "You in?"

Chac let his eyes roam over Wilson. "I'm game."

Wilson was horrified. "I'm _not_ game. I'm not _gay_."

House drank his beer. "You can go home then."

"Why'd you ask him to choose?" Chac asked Wilson. House waited for the answer too. Wilson felt decidedly uncomfortable with the two against one scenario that had just reared its head. Disadvantage - Wilson.

"I'm not -- I don't -- I want House. I'm not interested in Chac. No offense."

House drained his beer and stood. "You ought to really _taste_ the juicy tender veal before you send it back."

Chac looked pleased. "Wow. You're not in the basement, Doctor James, you're in a vault in the basement."

"I'm not gay!"

"Then you're just very confused."

House was highly amused at his lovers' quick wit.

Wilson rested his head in his hands. "This is nuts. I can't be with House if you are. It wouldn't feel right." He felt certain defeat just around the corner.

Wilson tried one last play. "Sex is one thing, but I love him." He looked at House. "What about you?"

"I love me too."

"Do you love _me_?" Wilson he said.

House sighed, throwing an arm in both their directions. "I love both you idiots."

Wilson felt a wave of warmth and longing sweep over him. That at least was his. House had admitted it.

Wilson asked the two men, his lover and his rival. "So what do we do about it?"

House shrugged. "Run with it." He smiled at Chac and left them, heading for the bathroom.

Chac said to Wilson, loudly enough for House to hear. "You could always join us."

House barked out a single delighted chortle. "Sounds like win-win for me. I'm going to get clean while you girls discuss the pro's and con's of doubling your pleasure."

Both heard the shower start up and a low sonorous tune slowly rose above the water. House was actually singing.

Chac slouched back on the leather couch, intrigued by the unexpected turn of events. He looked at Wilson and said without a shadow of a doubt. "You're in love."

"Yes. But I'm not-"

"Oh stop the bullshit. The only one in this three-some who _isn't_ gay is House."

"He's sleeping with _you_."

But Chac understood why. "House is an opportunist. Plus he's not afraid of anything. He's sleeping with me because he needed someone and I made it clear I wanted him without conditions. You're in love with a man and you're denying it because you're embarrassed. The good news is you don't have to be."

Wilson, by no means agreeing with the younger man or even wishing to explore the topic of his orientation, never-the-less asked, "Oh? And why is that?"

His face thoughtful, Chac spoke, not answering directly. "Some guys think - especially hetero's - that the ability to knock up a woman is a sign of masculinity or virility. You know? All those little sperms flexing their massive biceps and racing to the finish. And I suppose the idea of physically altering another human, changing the nature of their form, simply by fucking them, has a certain appeal. Like a sexual power trip.

"But the ability for a man to drive another man to wild, sexual ecstacy sure as hell isn't without its own attraction. You wouldn't believe the high you get back - the drive to drive it in again."

Wilson was embarrassed at the thought of Chac driving something of his into House, and hot with the image it brought instantly to his mind. His dick twitched.

Chac continued. "With Greg, though, it's not all rough and wild. He loves to be touched -- all over his body. Most men do, it's just that we're often so focused on the little firemans' performance, our other needs get left behind. Greg likes it sweet and slow too."

Chac glanced down the hall where the bathroom door was shut against their rather one-sided conversation. "Part of that's the pain I think." He added, his voice very tender. "It's hard on him, that goddamn pain." He looked at Wilson again. "But that makes me want to drag it out a little. He's worth it, and not just because I like to swallow that magnificent cock. He's very sexy. To _me." _

Both heard the bathroom door open and the bedroom door close.

Chac stood, walking to Wilson. "People think gay men are less virile, less men. That we're weak and true enough, there are lots of flamin's out here. But then there's lots of hetero cross-dressers too. And wussy, girlie hetero' guys."

Chac took Wilsons' chin in slim artists' fingers and was only a little surprised that Wilson let him. "Then there's gays you couldn't spot if you had a Homo-meter. Now," Chac reached down and unzipped his jeans, letting them and his boxers slide down his still youthful, lean legs, until he stood exposed fully to Wilson, letting his rival get a good look at his body. Then Chac bent over down and kissed Wilson on the lips. Chac wasn't that surprised that Wilson allowed _that_ either. "Does anything on this body appear effeminate to you?"

Wilson let his eyes roam over Chac's very trim, youthful physique. "No. No you're not effeminate." Not at all.

"Men turn me on, Doctor Wilson. House turns me crazy on. You turn me on too. You wouldn't have gone in my calendar if I'd thought otherwise. I like men. I love cocks and I've known that since before I knew what a cock was for."

Chac stood up again. "Now I guess all you have to figure out is: Do you love House more than anyone? Are you hot for him? So are you going to join me in the bedroom with him or are you going to go home?"

XXX

Wilson did not go home.

The covers were swept aside and there was room enough for three in Houses' bed. Chac made it more comfortable by nestling House in the middle with himself behind, wrapping his arms around him and indulging in his just showered skin and ever hardening cock. Chac's demanding fist closed around it as Wilson watched, both fascinated and repulsed. Not because it was unattractive. There was hardly a thing unattractive about either men, but because it was so new.

New and old. Like a favorite chair that had seen better days suddenly re-upholstered and ready for a waiting ass.

Facing him, Wilson took Houses face in his hands and kissed him, letting his mind go with the moment. He decided the best thing was not to think too much about it. Lean in, enjoy Houses' mouth and flesh and let him do whatever he wanted in return. What House wanted was to clutch Wilsons' cock in his fist and give him an amazing hand job right then. Chac meanwhile was having his own little party with Houses' butt cheeks. Now was not the time for anything deeper, the new man having a case of the nerves. But it was still fun and romantic and sexy as hell. As far as Chac was concerned, three was not a crowd here.

He didn't mind sharing House. As long as House didn't mind. But giving him up? Not even Wilson could have accomplished that. Had House chosen his longest best friend instead of his newest one, Chac would still have found a way to get into Gregs' pants. As for Gregs' life, he was in it to stay.

As for Wilson, well, good looking adventurous types were hard to come by. What the hell? Chac finished off Greg with a several strong strokes and patted his ass delightedly, shooting his own fluid in between Gregs' butt cheeks. Again, anything deeper would have to wait. Can't spring too much too quickly on a just out of the closet newbie.

Wilson was lost in his first ever sexual treat courtesy Greg House and wasn't thinking a thing. His mind was nowhere and everywhere. As long as Houses' hands were on him, nothing else mattered anyway. When he came, shooting his release over Houses' hands, he was so caught up in the moment he almost passed out. But House leaned in with a hard, lingering kiss bringing him back to his senses.

All three came down from the high by showering up well, each taking their turn soaping up another under the water, then stepping out to give another lover room.

Chac surprised Wilson by stealing a kiss from him as they stood togther in the steamy room. House was almost finished showering and let them know it. "Hey, love-birds. Somebody get out and make coffee."

Chac, always charmed by his lovers' caustic wit, did as asked. Wilson threw on a robe and Chac quickly slipped into the bedroom to dress.

XXX

"I'm leaving for Sorrento tomorrow." Chac carefully placed folded clothing in his small black leather duffle bag. "Still got a magazine to shoot."

Wilson stood by the bedroom door in Houses' apartment. House had gone off to work and he and Chac had said their goodbye's earlier. Chac had been around almost two weeks and Wilson had got to know him a little. Not only in the fleshly sense. He had to admit Chac was a pretty cool guy. He still felt a bit outclassed by the man physically. He comforted himself by remembering that he had fifteen years knowledge of House on the photographer.

"How long?" Wilson asked.

"I'll be back for a week in two months." Chac stopped packing for a second and looked at Wilson. So it looks like you'll have House all to yourself for a while." He zipped up the bag. "I'm not done with his dick by a long shot. Plus I've grown attached, you know?"

Wilson knew. Boy did he know. When Chac looked at House, there was something deeper than lust in his eyes now. He looked at him the way Wilson had started looking a few years previous. Only Chac had never been afraid to say it.

Chac walked to the front door. Wilson followed, sticking out his hand for Chac to shake. Chac ignored it, leaning in to give him a kiss on the lips instead. "Take care of him." He told Wilson when he turned away.

Wilson nodded.

Chac paused in the doorway and turned back around for a second. "Because as much as I'm starting to like you, James," Chac smiled sweetly, "If you hurt him? I'll kill you."

Wilson figured as much. Chac was announcing that he was here to stay.

Maybe the three of them could work this. It wouldn't be so bad having another set of eyes on House to make sure the mans' ass was kept out of jail or away from the more harmful of his many addictions and what-not.

Wilson nodded his compliance. "See you in two months. . ._**Babe."**_

**END.**


End file.
